


From A God Be Glory

by TheArchein



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, bit of a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20512856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchein/pseuds/TheArchein
Summary: All but dead, Tiso awakens to find himself cast from the Colosseum, discarded as nothing but a fool. Fueled by a burning desire claim what glory he is owed, the formerly felled fighter makes for God Tamer.Will he triumph to claim the throne? Or will he fall once more, nothing but another casualty of the Colosseum?





	1. Purgatory

The snow fell, as it always had.

The white, necrotic flesh descended in a slow dance upon the grounds of the Kingdom’s Edge. Centimeter by centimeter of the deceased Wyrm packed itself in a realm lost to time, the earth so coated that nary a speck of sediment was visible enough to blotch the paleness of the land.

Except, however, the limp corpse of bug.

Nestled upon a crag, a fine sprinkling of snow covered the cracked, dark blue armor of the still fighter. Cast aside, no funeral for the fool, Tiso’s body was left to the elements. Given time, he would be nothing more than one of the thousands engulfed by this forgotten land.

Were it not for a twitch from his body.

Stillness followed, the motion perhaps a mirage in this deathly still domain. Yet soon after, another twitch dispelled any sense of delusion. The lifeless form was given life: Tiso was not yet lost.

With great pain, the insect raised its torso. A groan sounded from the ant as a hand reached up to rub the face hidden within its hood. His throat felt hoarse, his mouth parched. How long had he been out? Body void of energy, Tiso struggled to stand himself up, a leg buckling to cast him into a kneel. He gazed around, nothing but dark dreariness surrounding the landscape. Perhaps life had eluded him altogether, the bug stuck in a drab purgatory.

“…why?”

His voice croaked out the singular word. The question had rung within his mind from the moment he awoke, like a residual thought from his comatose state. But why had it been there? Why had it hounded him? Where was he? What had become of him?

It took the sudden thump of a body beside him to shock the bug out of his pensive daze, Tiso leaping away from the cliff’s edge and the corpse that now occupied where he once laid. The large, circular body was covered in a light brown and green set of armor, a spike adorning its head. Staring closely at it, Tiso began to slowly recognize the type of being. 

‘A…fool. The Colosseum! …_Her._’

Those pale white eyes began to boil in heated anger. Yes, _everything_ was slowly coming back to him. The long-awaited trial. His valiant display of warrior prowess that left enemy after enemy cleaved by the surprise within his shield. And _her_. The Champion. The one he battled so ferociously, with such elegance, that had it not been for her beast of a pet, he would be champion. He deserved. Perhaps it was this sheer bitterness that had resuscitated him, the lack of resolve to his lingering question. He deserved. He was worthy. So why hadn’t fate granted him victory. _Why?_

Tiso brushed down his fractured armor, disgruntled by the sight of such beauty broken. He shuffled his way towards the corpse before him, peeling out the shield caught beneath. With what haste he could muster, the ant moved westwards from the precipice. Further from the snow, his eyes scoured the ground for pockets of water, anything to quench his thirst. A faint drip brought the insect hope: a few meters away, the rhythmic tapping of water splashed against a small puddle. Tiso dashed towards it, collapsing to his knees before the life-giving divot. His hands cupped into the cool liquid, only to be raised back against his mouth.

The ant coughed and sputtered at the taste, the taste of minute pebbles and dirt more than apparent. Tiso paused, staring at the puddle with slight contempt. He couldn’t stop: a real warrior wouldn’t let this minor inconvenience set him back. With a deep inhale, Tiso again moved to drink from the pond. He’d do anything necessary to get back on his path, to take what was rightfully his.


	2. The Ascent to the Challenge

Black digits gripped the crevices notched within the ancient shells covering the Kingdom’s Edge. Tiso panted with each pull, his eyes set on one direction: up. Up from where the Fools fell. Up from where the Colosseum beckoned. It mattered not how each hand ached, how his armor strained his already fatigued body. A warrior’s life wasn’t easy: without suffering, there would be no reward. And Tiso craved that reward. He lusted for victory over the Colosseum. Little care did he have for the Geo—he simply wanted to show that he was the best, the _greatest._

·

Tiso collapsed into the snow of a jutting ledge, his body rising and falling with each heavy breath. Finally, after so many hours, had he scaled this endless chasm. Yet even so high up, the Colosseum was still so far away. Content with a few minutes of respite, the determined ant shifted his focus to the entrance before him. Beyond it, the scenery elicited a differing aura from the lifelessness of the Edge. Creatures littered the corridor: the subtle chirping of distant Belflies accompanied the thumping of Hopper swarms. Not a moment could he afford to collect his bearings lest one of these feral creatures tear at his already fractured form.

The deeper he climbed, the fainter the chittering of the critters grew. Step by step, rock by rock, Tiso had pulled away from the Kingdom's Edge, away from his grave. Surfacing from the corridor, the ant turned his form about to better understand his surroundings. His body froze, heart jumping in elation.

_The Colosseum._

Even at this distance, it was beyond recognizable. The enormous, skeletal entrance stared at the ant, a ghost-like whisper calling, beckoning him to return. And answer the call Tiso did. The ant darted towards the skull, mind washed in the prospect of victory. Little regard did he hold for the hellfire of Belflies raining from the ceiling. On stone paving did he finally reach, back to where his path last ended, back to the Colosseum's gate.

Tiso stood outside the gated entry, perplexed by the situation before him. Little ruckus did he perceive, little jubilation from the usual hordes of spectators reveling in bloodshed. Was the Colosseum closed for the day? Could it be, that such strong-willed warriors kowtowed to the deplorable desire of slothful relaxation?

‘How pitiful,’ thought the ant to himself, pacing around the enormous skull.

If normal entry was infeasible, he would search for his own path inside. A minor inconvenience was this brief obstacle, and a warrior of his tier had the cunning to take it head on. With only a bit of digging, Tiso was able to cave in a small portion of the side, allowing a smaller figure like his to push through the cracked wall of the Colosseum's entry with only slight hesitation.

What a familiar sight. The totems. The hanging bugs. He was finally back—but the true challenge had only just begun. Seeing the Colosseum’s entrance empty, Tiso stepped towards the arena with a renewed bravado and a will to conquer what was his.

·

The arena, too, laid barren of life. Not a soul could be heard. Only the slouched form of the deceased Lord Fool gave audience, the eternal spectator of unceasing carnage. Tiso marched about the familiar stage, his body brimming with vigor.

“Champion!” yelled the ant, standing steadfast within the middle of the Colosseum.

Nothing.

“Champion! You they call 'Tamer'! Fight me!” barked Tiso, his voice echoing upon the walls.

A rustle rang, the distant sound of a door opening and closing. Tiso swiveled his body towards the noise, hand gripping the belt of his shield. His heart pounded, eyes glaring upon the figure at the arena’s edge.

_“Tamer.”_

Before him stood the Champion, clad in her dark, brownish-red armor. Her nail, near twice the size of her form, rested firmly on her shoulder with unparalleled ease. Her left hand moved up beneath her helmet, fingers shifting to rub her head. She looked over the bug, his armor splintered in an unsalvageable manner.

“Silence,” she muttered, dropping her nail to the ground, “or I’ll silence you.”

“I’m here to challenge you Tamer, and—”

“_God_ Tamer,” interrupted the Champion, her voice drenched in displeasure. “There are no battles today, the Colosseum is closed. I will, however, kill you if you keep…”

God Tamer paused: were her eyes playing tricks on her? Vaguely did she recall an encounter with her own species--surely she had faced this bug before.

“…Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” she questioned to the prattling insect. Perhaps she had gotten sloppy with her past kill.

“Me? Die so easily? Pathetic you’d even think that!” haughtily lambasted Tiso, that furor swelling in his eyes. “I’ve come to show why I’m here, why I am worthy of being called Champion. Not _you._ Your victory against me was but a fluke.”

“’Fluke’?” scoffed the other, approaching closer. “Your entire trial was a fluke.”

With each step did her shadow cover his figure, each stride forcing one step back from her challenger.

“Now I'm remembering you. You were that joke. Clumsy. Arrogant. How you managed so far is beyond me--I wouldn’t doubt most of the others offed themselves out of sheer pity. Oh do I remember well. Who could forget a circus act like _yours_.”

Caught off guard by such berating, Tiso could do naught but lean back as the Champion loomed over him. Her unseen eyes peered into his soul, burning through the fibers of pride that held his weakened form.

“But I’ve had enough of your act. Get. Out.”

Tiso stared, his form shaken. Never had his ego been lashed in such a manner, never had he felt so humiliated. _Never had he felt so angered._

“Coward,” he spat, a foot pressing back towards her.

“’Coward’?” replied the God Tamer, her head tilted, arms once again crossed before the challenger.

She had half a mind to eviscerate him where he stood. How easy would it be to snuff the life of this egotistic flame, this self-righteous sham. Tenacity he did have, that was for certain--maybe she could kill that as well. And who knew. Perhaps he would die valiantly this time.

·

Tiso's legs skidded back, his feet digging within the ground to cease momentum. His shield remained clutched tight within the grip of both hands, reverberating from his opponent's powerful impact. The challenger panted with eyes furrowed upon his target. There she stood with an arm raised, nail pointed towards the challenger from a distance. She was taunting him to approach. His foot slammed forwards, a hand gripping the air in front of him: Tiso took her provocation to heart.

“You dare think you can best the likes of me? Without your beast you are but fodder! Such smug mannerisms shows only weakness of—”

“Shut up!” snarled the God Tamer, slamming her nail on the ground. The sound of its impact reverberated throughout the arena, its deafening rumble silencing her opponent.

With a sneer, Tiso’s leg pulled back.

His hold tightened against the leather enarme, the grip drenched in the sweat of battle. Beads of moisture poured down his head, dampening his pointed, blue hood. In each of the few minutes they fought, always on the back foot had he remained. Nary a break was he given, save for the invaluable time he had currently snagged. His adversary appeared calm, almost nonchalant. Not even her wield of that monstrous nail seemed to slow her aggressive assault.

If he couldn’t take a footing in closer quarters, then he would play his game at a distance. Tiso shook the shield in a vice grip, a ring of blades forming from the parted sections of his shield: his deadly surprise. A faint grin cracked against the edge of his mouth; even the Champion would crumble to the cutting edges of his ingenious arm.

The ant twisted his torso, his hand shifting from the shield’s strap to its outer edge. His palm gripped almost carelessly upon the slicing edge, a cut digging partially into his palm. With a whip of his arm, Tiso launched his armament upon the Champion, a surprising pace tearing the discus through the air. Surprised was the God Tamer, pressed for time as the challenger's arm whistled towards her. The Champion shifted back her right foot, body turned perpendicular to the weapon’s encroaching path. Her left hand joined her dominant upon the nail’s grip, feet entrenched in the earth below her. The towering nail pulled back like a bat, all focus placed on the target careening towards her. The shield not but a meter from her body, God Tamer swung the nail forwards, its blade clashing against the metallic disc. The clang of metal rang through the Colosseum like an unearthly screech, the challenger's weapon flung skywards as the Champion's blade remained firm in hand.

Like a tossed coin did the shield landed before its wielder. Tiso stood stunned; never had anyone shrugged off this a move with such relative ease. Dread flooded over the insect, his hidden, black face pale of color. Tiso was afraid--and here his nightmare hurtled towards him. Tiso snapped himself from his daze, reaching down for the discarded shield. A piercing clang of metal followed the smack of God Tamer’s nail against his shield, Tiso clutching his safeguard in desperation. Another hit followed, Tiso’s footing beginning to wobble. On the next swing did it inevitably collapse, his knee buckling at her might. On his back did he lay like an overturned Tiktik, shield clutched in futile protection. Blow after blow buffeted his weapon, Tiso’s mind void of all but one thing: _fear_. No relent did the God Tamer show, feral snarls accompanying each strike against the foolish bastard. She was going to end this; she was going to end him.

With a fierce grunt, her nail forcefully cast the shield away. Below remained the fractured bug, below laid her next victim. Wide did Tiso’s eyes grow as the broad edge of her nail flew down upon him. A choked gasp sputtered from the bug, the wind knocked from him on impact. Deeper drove the nail his armor, hungering for flesh as it tugged upon its cracked segment. Seamlessly did the nail peel away the bottom half off the ant's armor, the flesh below now ripe for slaughter. There did Tiso lay, quivering before his adversary. There cowered his form under the God Tamer, a warrior stripped of armor, of weapon, of pride. For one, final time did the Champion raise her weapon, a shadow of death cast from her blade against the challenger. Tiso raised both arms up defensively, his head turned away, eyes clenched shut. This was it, his permanent defeat.

“…why?”

God Tamer’s position kept still, her nail still hovering above. _Why?_ No pleas, no valiant final words? No bitter fight until the end? Had this pretentious bug really fallen so low? Almost pitiful did it seem: a fool cheating death simply to die again.

Perhaps he was different.

Once had warriors flocked to the Colosseum for the lust of glory, the thrill of combat. Droves flooded the gate to train and strengthen themselves, hundreds upon hundreds hungering for that coveted title. And now? Only greed gripped their minds, its own Infection tarnishing those noble ideals. Geo over the title, geo over the combat, geo over the mind. How different indeed this one was. What pleasure would there be in ending this one now? Broken, beaten, battered to a trembling mess.

The Champion lowered her weapon to the side, her figure held over the ant. They weren’t too different, the two of them. To see one of her own kind striving to reach even her level brought a subtle tinge of delight--more so would it in felling a trained adversary. Perhaps there was more to be done than slaughter the aspirations of the greedy droves. Perhaps there was more to this ant.

Tiso’s eyes peeked open, the stab of death unfelt. All he noticed before him were the few fleeting paces of the God Tamer, her figure more distant with each breath he took. Subtly did his body shake--from fear, from fatigue, from pain. Adrenaline dissipated; exhaustion flooded his form in an unassailable wave. Struggle he did to keep his foe in sight, struggle he did to get up; yet the earth tugged back, his body clutched against the ground. The insect’s hood sank, the Champion's blurred image fading to the darkness of his closed eyes.


	3. Another Chance

A day passed since his defeat, Tiso's heavy eyelids painfully cracking open as he clawed out from his slumber. His body ached: barely had he enough strength to wipe the water from his eyes. Fatigued as he was, a kick of adrenaline coursed through the warrior's body, the insect leaping up from the floor. His eyes frantically scoured the ground for his shield, a fighting mentality still burning through his mind. Was he alive? Had he been spared? ...why?

About did this white irises search. The darkness of his environment made his task all the more difficult. The stone floor was illuminated only by the distant, amber flames of a few remotely discernible hanging lanterns. A few steps pressed forwards, the challenger near stumbling upon a metallic disc. A sigh of relief sounded from the ant as he knelt, his hands scavenging against the dirty ground for his shield.

Further did Tiso walk, further towards the dangling lights. He noticed an apparent lightness to his form: the weight to which he had become accustomed seemed gone, alongside that cool, metallic touch against his exoskeleton. Like a moth to the Light did he approach the hanging fires, light casting against the scenery of his surroundings. Rusted chains dangled from the ceiling, accompanied by the shreds of banners hanging from ancient, scarred masks and shells. Towering cages lined with spiked tips held the bodies of ridiculed Fools. Solid, iron benches littered the area many meters before him, those not covered by the lounging figures of resting warriors tossed and overturned in a chaotic mess. Back he was in Warrior’s Pit, deeper inside perhaps than his previous stay. He presumed he’d been tossed into one of the gated areas lining the rear alcove of the Pit, those shut closed to most of the contestants. Surprisingly, the gate had been lowered enough for him to climb out into the main resting area. Strewn about the floor laid the remains of cast-off armor, weathered nails without owners, and the bodies of Fools resting momentary naps before their eternal slumber.

The dim flames brightened his figure, a subtle warmth touching Tiso's shoulders as dancing embers licked his chitinous skin. Quickly did Tiso discover from where this lightness to his body had come: no longer did that blue, shattered armor adorn his figure. In place of steel laid new wrappings of beige cloth bandages, tightly tugging against his torso and encircled snugly upon his arms. No cloth or garments beneath had he previously worn--someone else had come and tended to his figure. A hand raised quickly; fears that his hood too had vanished were promptly dispelled by the touch of blue fabric. Little difference would his old armor make to him now--the Champion had made sure of that. His current state did, however, require protection: mere reliance on his exoskeleton would lead to the swift severing of his figure in combat. The fighter walked towards the discarded pieces, chancing over the tossed sets of plating. Each piece of a breastplate, each sturdy pauldron he sized yielded a poor fit. A bitter grunt came from his mouth as set by set failed to offer result. Resigning from his search, Tiso's body swerved to face the right of the Pit. His fidgeting demeanor had previously led him to unearth a concealed chamber within the recesses of the Pit. Little care did he have in partaking of the luxuries of the Hot Springs within, his head then focused on the glorious trial. Yet now, safe enough a haven would it provide. With the faint clamoring of returning Fools drawing closer to the Pit, in to the burrow of the Springs did the ant recede.

Paralyzed did Tiso stand, pale eyes shaking at curious gaze of the creature before him. No sooner had he escaped the horde than was he caught in vicinity of their leader. A grin cracked at the edge of her mouth, her arms crossed as she lounged at the opposing end of the spring.

“Someone’s awake,” she chaffed towards her once-defeated adversary.

His eyes furrowed; too did his own arms cross against his torso in an act of contemptuous mimicry. Cast aside was her armor, her helmet laid upon the sauna's stone edge. So, this was the creature behind the beast--an ant like him. Cross-shaped scars and long-healed gashes laid etched on her figure; a noticeable line tore down against her right eye. It seemed a cost came with retaining her title. Back to her face did Tiso's eyes shift. His lip curled at her smug demeanor, his teeth grit at her nonchalance. Yet level-headed would he remain to maintain the air of a warrior. His fingers dug under a strand of cloth, tugging at the tightened wrapping.

“I require armor,” he uttered, his voice evidently irate.

“Not in here you don’t.”

“In _general._”

“You’ll get some," she responded, each word a biting retort to the ego of fighter. "But later. Sit, you’ve got all the time in the world here.”

The mere thought of such relaxation repulsed Tiso. To him, the warrior's home was the battle; their life was the fray. Mindless rest would drive a warrior mad. Cautious was he with his tongue, however; to dare outwardly reject she who had all but killed him was an idiocy even his hubris could do without. Tiso sat down against the pool’s edge, his legs dipping into the warm, cloudy water. A subtle mumble did he emit, yet another pronounced indication of his bitterness to the invitation. A quiet between them formed, colored only by the steady stream of the waterfalls nearby.

“Cool place isn't it? Ever wonder about how it started?” God Tamer asked, a minute smile on her face as she glanced towards the rounded stones above them.

Tiso paused, a brow arching.

"The hot spring?"

"No," muttered the Champion back, her eyes rolling. "Of the Colosseum, in general."

The challenger shrugged in response, his shoulders drooping as his arms sank to his knees.

“I came to fight, not for unnecessary drivel,” grumbled Tiso, less apprehensive now to show that bit of tongue. “But I assume you’re going to tell me anyways.”

The Champion squinted, visible displeasure marking her face. It took quite the willpower from the Champion to not tear at him right there.

“You’re not just a Fool, you’re _stupid,_” she berated in a muttered voice. “Even the strongest fighter takes a break. You overexert yourself, you grow weak, you die. And you’re lucky enough to be alive anyways.”

Tiso clenched his teeth, hands gripping the smooth, slippery stones beside him.

“…fine, then tell me,” he murmured back, his head resting upon a raised, open palm.

A cheeky grin tugged once more at God Tamer’s face. At least he was smart enough to know his place.

“Apparently Lord Fool used to be something bigger, stronger than what he is now,” she spoke, her hand waving in articulation. "Rumors here, rumors there, but we're basically inside his old carcass."

She noticed the other's eyes raise, glad she could maintain what small mind the ant had.

“He was cast here, spat on, made a fool--and soon enough he too made his own. Built an arena in his corpse, told them all to seek blood. Great isn't it? Cast off from society, fighting for the sake of fighting?" She grinned, her arms rising outstretched as she looked about. "And here I am, Champion of them all under the dead King.” 

Tiso muttered quietly, his hooded head turning in his palm. His legs swayed in subtle motions, for once holding his tongue.

“…tell me your name,” she voiced, Tiso's glancing across the pool.

“I am Tiso,” he mumbled, a tone more quelled than its former prideful nature.

“'Tiso',” she began, a stern tone invoking her powerful image, “Like the Lord, you're getting a second chance. The reason your corpse isn't rotting with his is because I think that'd be a waste. I want someone in my arena who's yearning for the battle. I want someone who's pride dragged their mangled body back to the fight."

Her figure leaned forwards, slight nerves gripping the male before her. 

“I’m going to train you, and you’re going to do what I say. I know you want to get stronger, so I’m giving you the chance. _Don’t_ make me regret it.”

God Tamer's body shifted back within the water, her gaze fixated upon the other. She studied each reaction, hunting for a sign of withdrawal. Yet the Fool seemed more pensive than frightened, his glance once more returning to the Champion.

“…alright,” he responded, a determined tone to his voice.

Cracking a small smile, the Champion relaxed, her subtle teasing nature returning.

“And hey, there's incentive enough. I mean if you fail, I'll just feed you to Beast,” she snickered, eliciting a tense jolt from Tiso.


	4. Again

“Again!”

Tiso leapt back, shield held out to withstand the blow of the Champion’s practice nail. Closer moved the God Tamer, her barrage forcing another stumble from the ant.

“Again!”

Several days had gone since Tiso’s re-arrival, each one since their pact scheduled with grueling training. Impressive it was for the God Tamer to leap from their sparring to the arena, though sparsely was she summoned to direct combat as few managed to fully conquer the gauntlet. Thus, Tiso provided her practice, and in turn the Champion had begun the Fool's formal induction into Colosseum life. There was, after all, a method to the madness of repeatedly smacking him about.

God Tamer raised the wooden nail, cracks prominent across its light brown ridge. The second one of the day it was, already crumbling under her clenched hold. It seemed the splintered blade was not the only thing breaking apart from her beating. Outstretched did Tiso's reach, manically shaking a plea for cessation.

“Stop! I’m in no condition without armor!” he complained, an attempt to reprieve himself from the impending blow.

“If you’re relying on your armor, you’re already doing a terrible job,” she retorted, lowering the dull blade.

“Easy for one like you to say," Tiso sneered, gripping the cloth garb upon his torso with a firm shake. "To think the _Champion_ would wear all that protection while I’m stuck with nothing but these rags.” 

“Just means I'm dealing with more weight--and do you really think I’d be worried about getting hit by _you?_” she countered, pacing towards her trainee.

From his knelt position did the ant stand once more. Tiso remained steadfast as she approached, a bitter expression contorted upon his face.

“You dare insult me? Only a coward of a warrior uses his words like th—”

The shield-wielder was cut off by the imposing figure of the Champion, her helmet craning down to press within Tiso’s hood. The pointed tip of her helmet's visor jabbed against his face, her concealed white eye scowling behind its four holes.

_“Then how about shutting up?”_

He blinked, heart racing as she firmly gripped his shoulder. Her fingers dug painfully into the fabric of his sole article of clothing, muscles tensed against the strengthening hold. Other hand raised, her palm moved towards his cheek, giving a small smack against his face. The tightness of her fingers relaxed, a simper replacing her stern glare. Tiso knelt down, slowly picking his shield up, before straightening once again. It seemed she had motivated him enough.

“Again! And keep your body moving!”

·

The trainee panted, his back pressed against a wall. His head arched up, weary eyes sagging from the practice of the day. Slowly did his figure slide to the ground, his legs pulling close to his torso. He pulled at the damp, disheveled hood, adjusting the antennae within. His eyes glanced down against the swift rise and fall of his chest. Hour on hour yielded a cloth shirt caked in sweat and dirt, and within it an ant sore from his beatings. The God Tamer gave a stretch, walking over towards the fatigued Fool.

“You look gross: relax and wash yourself,” she teased, visor raised to reveal a toothy smirk.

“Why thank you,” sarcastically muttered Tiso, staring past clutched knees to his trainer.

The God Tamer shifted to the wall beside him, leaning against her shoulder. The ant below her began to fidget once more with that hood, meticulously pressing and tugging at the cloth. Curiosity itched at her mind. Such concern over a garment, never failing to cover his head; even in the springs had he refused to take it off. Did he even clean it? Or was this the mask he hid behind? From intrigue did her mind shift to mischief--there certainly was a way to find out. With a swift flick of her arm, the Champion gripped his blue hood, yanking it from his head. She held it aloft, two antennae twitching in the air beneath. With unparalleled swiftness did panic sweep over Tiso, arms clasping at the air above.

“Give—Give that back!” he shouted, rising from his seated position in an ineffectual attempt to retrieve the article. “God Tamer!”

The God Tamer grinned, holding it high above his head, free hand pressing the other ant’s form back down.

“After all that work and this's all the effort you're giving? C'mon Tiso,” she taunted, head craned down with a cruel little smile.

After hearing enough irritated complaints, the Tamer acquiesced to his pleading, tossing the hood against his face. She strolled away from the seated ant, picking up her shattered wooden nail from the ground. The Fool swiftly shoved the hood back upon his head, fingers gripped tight to avoid another theft.

“We’re done with training for a few days. We’ve got challengers coming later—and you’re going to learn how to build your own armor.”

·

Hammer clanged against anvil, a methodical ring filling the rear, gated rooms of the Warrior’s Pit. A hand wiped the sweat from the ant's forehead, the fighter pulling from the furnace. The broken shell of his armor laid aside, the warrior glancing towards the shattered halves. Eyes shifted from his reference to the bent sheet of metal before him. Little did he know in respect to handiwork; neither in nailsmithing nor blacksmithing had he ever worked. Yet with minute steps towards his plan would he tackle the task before him. Two paths could he take: mend the past's armor, or craft a set of plating anew. The latter did he opt first; practice through craft-work would prevent irreparable damage to his already broken armor-shell. Material for the task was of little issue: the entirety of the Pit laid littered with discarded helmets and plating of Fools deceased. Through error would he slowly learn the ways of the trade.

And there was certainly error to be had.

Tiso tossed away the hammered sheet, furious at his work. Hours had he slaved and yet nothing had come of them. He looked around, the hearth of the furnace littered with bent, poorly smelted metal. Not a piece remained not already massacred by his hands. The warrior spat at the ground--certainly it was the fault of the metal, not him. His head glanced down; the garb God Tamer had given was near shredded, holes burnt upon the cloth by erratic embers. He would require another, lest that heat burn holes through his carapace. Too would it give him time away from the arduous labor--perhaps he could peak a look at ongoing battles.

Elevated was the path east of the Warrior's Pit. Rare did it see foot traffic: the Fools descended from the west, raised then to their inevitable deaths from the rear gates. Near the burrow to the spring did the ant pace, glancing towards the forbidden path. Worn stone steps shaped a steep staircase to the arena's rear. Bravely, perhaps foolishly so, did he ascend. Light bathed the top of the stairs, the arena's glow a blinding contrast from the dark dwellings below. Reaching the apex, Tiso's head twisted to study the new surroundings. Horned masks stuck plastered upon the walls, the hollow eyes of beastly masks peering into the arena. Only a gate separated him from the killing grounds. Crowds screamed for the spilling of blood, the scent of sweat and death wafting into the corridor. Yet too did another scent tickle his nose: sickly-sweet, a cutting pungency through the air. The ant's head turned from the Colosseum to a carved entrance before him: the Champion's quarters. 

“Champion!” he called from outside, head peering in to the darkness of the room. 

Beyond the stone frame did Tiso step, eyes squinting to discern his surroundings. Stronger did the scent grow, a growing familiarity perceptible to the ant. Utterances did he hear--a voice. In the silence of the room whispered a low murmur, dazed, yet rambling.

“God Tamer?”

Under a hanging flame sat she, the subtle glow barely illuminating the God Tamer's sitting form. Hysterical, trance-like did she act: her black head bobbed continuously back and forth, her fingers scraping lines in her scarred legs. A cloudy, murky orange glow glassed over her eyes; a nauseating, gaseous amber tint colored the air about her.

“For glory…the fight…Pale one…” she muttered, her speech a near incomprehensible slur.

“…Champion?” Tiso called, his words lined with a growing worry.

Further did he approach into her quarters, closer to the transfixed insect. Deeper, deeper did he move into her lair. 

“Light…deeper…” she whispered. Her head craned up, that blank, foggy stare towards the insect twisting into a hostile, bitter glower. A low-sounding snarl hissed past her clenched teeth, a line of foam frothing on her bottom lip.

"Tamer!”

The Champion’s fixated eyes blinked, the hostile hue evaporating instantaneously. A hand raised to her head, her palms rubbing against sore temples.

“Ugh—Tiso? Why're you shouting--how long have you been there?” she groggily mumbled.

“Weren’t you—are you okay?”

Tamer looked up, noticing the more worried expression on his face. To think, Tiso of all people was showing a semblance of care for someone else. She groaned, her head drooping back, arms sinking to the floor.

“Is it the—”

“Yeah…” she interrupted with a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about it though, I won’t go feral or whatever. I’ve had it for a few months now—used to be worse a bit back.”

Tiso kept his place, a hand rubbing against the torn sleeves upon his arm.

“Wow, you’re really worried, aren’t ya? Isn’t that cute,” teased the Champion, a smirk gripping her cheek.

At once did Tiso’s body stiffen, a nerve of pride struck by her words. Defensively did he assail the Champion against such alleged notions of weakness.

“To think! Everyone knows the horrors of the Infection, me most of all! Should I need to raise my shield against your consumed body I will not hesitate!”

“Relax,” giggled the God Tamer, standing up. “Like I said, it’s not as bad now. Getting out of Hallownest proper helped.”

Her smirk faded, eyes glancing towards the direction of the arena.

“More worried about my Beast. How he hasn’t snapped is just…anyways,” she muttered, clearing her throat, “Why’re you here? You know I could kill just for going up those stairs right?”

“I--well I had to…before that entire ordeal happened," he stammered, attempting to clear his throat. "I came to request a…new shirt."

The Champion glanced towards the other torso, a sorry sight of mangled, seared fabric dangling from his neck. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get ya something. Now go before I actually do kill you,” she voiced, a subtle tease in her tone.

With swift pace did Tiso about-face, black legs darting him from her confines towards the stairs. From the God Tamer came a withheld snicker, a comical sight drawn from the vain ant.


	5. A (Not So) Worrisome Affair

Tiso pushed back the driven nail, crafting much-needed space between the Champion and himself. The duo circled in tandem, Tiso in pace with Tamer. To the tune of the nail did they dance, the Champion cutting forward to snuff the gap between them. She lunged with nail drawn back, a feral growl erupting from her clenched teeth.

An excessive hostility had the Fool faced from his trainer. He feared the antagonism stemmed from a surge in the Infection—yet fully cognizant was she. It seemed this bitterness surged of her own volition. Unprepared he was for this chaotic onslaught; from the onset had he faced both physical and verbal beratement from his trainer. He knew not the source of this burning anger, nor the spark that ignited the kindling. Doubtful the fire drew from something trivial, doubtful too from something spoken. Little had he communicated with her before their spar--little could he communicate to her now. Tamer had his back pinned against a wall, her wooden lance drilling into his shield. Nail retracted, only to ram his shield yet again; its splintered tip threatened more than a simple bruise.

“Champion!” cried Tiso.

_"WHAT?!"_

Tiso clutched his shield, every ounce of strength used in defense of an unwarranted stabbing. Slowly did the Champion come to the realization of the strain she was placing on her trainee, his face tinged with a pale fear. The God Tamer's pressure lessened, nail pulling back from the battered shield. From scowling fury had her eyes began to show an apologetic look behind the visor's holes. The Fool's form sank before her, labored breathing from the frightening intensity of a meager spar. She looked at the ant collapsed, her wooden lance thumping against the dirt beside her. The Champion pulled up her visor, wiping the sweat accumulated against her forehead--perhaps she really had done too much.

“…sorry,” she muttered, an antenna twitching.

The Champion took to the space beside Tiso, her armor clacking against the wall. Lower did she sink, a brief moment to recuperate both her body and her mind. 

“Champion…are you—” started Tiso.

“No, no I’m fine,” she mumbled, lips fidgeting against her teeth. “Just...something that's been on my mind since earlier.”

“…And that thing is?”

“A challenger.”

"Who?"

"Who knows. Looked like a kid."

"A _kid?"_

Almost certain was Tiso that her words amounted to nothing more than an evasive farce. Yet no inflection to her tone, nor taunt in her hidden eyes indicated falseness to the tale.

"Well...were they any good?"

"Better than you that's for sure."

“_Thanks._”

Tamer snickered at the Fool's sarcastic remark, a minor alleviation to her tense mood.

"So...what happened?" the trainee asked, curious at to what might so displeasure the stalwart Queen of the Colosseum. 

“Thing beat me, that's it,” she murmured, eyes fixated to the ground. “I'm fine. But Beast...he hasn't recovered. Fighter nearly killed him.”

It seemed he had learned the source of her ire. Outstanding--nay, outlandish a thought it was that a child could not only decimate the gauntlet, but give such trouble to the Champion that she still remained transfixed on the ordeal. Yet even more character did it draw from the God Tamer. New a notion it was, to think the Champion--one whose nail seamlessly cleaved the limbs off adversaries, one whose throne was drenched in the pool of gladiatorial blood--gave such attachment to her steed.

“So, are you no longer the Champion?” questioned Tiso, his tone hushed to avoid eliciting contempt.

“I am. It came in, took its Geo, and left.”

"Hmph. How trivial an adversary," muttered Tiso.

The God Tamer began to rise once more from the ground, a brief stretch to recirculate her blood. In turn did Tiso begin to take to his feet, shield pulled back towards his side.

"Their victory only demonstrates what I knew true. Pathetic are these Fools, weak the challenge too. They should have faced me to see a real fight," boasted Tiso.

Down did God Tamer reach for the practice nail, her fingers gripping the hilt. She turned to face the other, seemingly reveling in their own narcissistic bliss.

"Perhaps I too should seek them, and give them the fight of a _true_ Champio--" began the ant, cut off by a sturdy smack against the side of his face. His body dropped with the swiftness of his ego, hands clutched against the tender bruise stinging his cheek. His trainer gave a brief chuckle, nudging his knelt form with the offending nail.

"Alright 'Champion,' let's keep going."

·

Faint footsteps upon the Colosseum’s entrance echoed as Tiso searched over the empty lobby. Past challenging hours had it been, a rare moment of uncanny quiet in the often bustling entryway. Eerie was it, the corpses of insects strung high in crushing chains, their subtle whispers and pleas urging release even in death.

“Ah ha!” cried a voice, the ant leaping back in surprise.

“Scared as usual, Tiso? For a…mmmmmmmm negligible contribution I’ll let you test that fear in the Colosseum!” sang the dangling, round bug, occasionally squirming in his silver shackles.

“A warrior like I has no time for your games Little Fool,” proudly proclaimed Tiso, a hand pressed against the ill-welded pieces of his formerly shattered armor. “The Champion has summoned me.”

“Whatever you say dear Tiso,” replied the Little Fool, a tinge of mockery coating his words. “She passed by down below a few minutes ago.”

“Me? Need directions? Don’t waste your breath fool,” spat Tiso, promptly following said directions.

“Excellent, now if you could kindly release—” Little Fool began, cut by the disappearing figure of the ant.

·

In the shadows did Tiso shuffle, reserved from the groups of warriors hunkered in the Pit. An occasional glance was cast his way, yet nothing more. A Fool he was, yes, but not their kind. Even so, cordiality was a rarity in this Pit--what good did it do to strike insignificant chatter with those destined for death? He kept to his business, they to theirs. And to the rear apse of this church of blood did his business take him, seeking the call from their priestess.

“Champion?” the ant called to the darkness behind a gate, yielding nothing but the faint mutter of a worn Fool.

The search continued in the recesses of the Pit, a weary drag on an insect labored by the combat of the day. Bitter did he grow; the warrior's focus was the fight, not this trivial game of a fruitless scavenge the Champion seemed to play. Tiso took to the gated entry of his room, further from the mellow glow of the Pit. Foot feeling straw, the insect dropped upon his bed of torn sheets and cloth scraps. He gave a deep exhale, his hand sinking upon the metallic exterior of his armor. Against a distinct line did his finger rub, the product of hours pressed into metalworking. Futile was it to reinvent his armor, better in turn to weld; with time did he fuse the fractured plating, breastplate united once more with the fauld. A small smile touched the face behind his hood. Not too poor was the work, rather acceptable for a bug of little practice. The success of this work offered a hope in his climb to the apex of the Colosseum.

“Took you long enough,” sang a whisper in the dark, Tiso nearly leaping clean off his bed.

A tint of red glowed from the single lamp in the room, the shadowed form of God Tamer catching the faint illumination. Her black digits reached to grip her copper helmet, pulling the mask from her face. Towards his bed did the Champion approach, sinking beside the startled form of her protégé. With insouciance did she act, as if the ant's room was her own.

“And _who_ gave you express permission to enter into _my_ room?” glowered Tiso to the Champion supplanting his bed.

“Uh, me. I did,” she snidely responded, a more composed look to her counterpart. “And, if I'm remembering right...you found your way into mine the other day, yeah?”

God Tamer patted the bed beside her, encouraging the obnoxiously bitter male to sit down. Resentful mumbles uttered from the ant, his teeth subtly biting against his lip. Back down did he sit, his armor shuffling against the ragged stacks of cloth.

“What is it,” muttered Tiso dryly, holding a small gap beside her.

“You’ve been doing good,” responded Tamer with a soft smile, a look of amiability towards the difficult bug. “Fixed up your armor, and you're actually starting to give me a fight too. So, I’m giving you off for a few days. You need it, I need it.”

“Me? Require respite? The mere thought—” started Tiso, silenced by a finger pressed firmly against his mouth.

“’Thank you very much Tamer’,” goaded the Champion.

“…I am _very_ thankful _Tamer,_” repeated Tiso, a tone not sparing its obvious contempt.

The god of the arena snickered, expecting as much from the warrior. A brief quiet came over the two, Tiso's hood turning to face the Champion.

“So, it is ‘Tamer’ now, is it? Have I reached some arbitrary level of skill to acquire such a 'pleasure'?” snobbishly spoke Tiso, eyes closed with pretentious air as his fingers pressed upon his drab armor.

The Champion scoffed; a grin spread across her face.

“Far from it,” she smugly retorted. “You’re the only one I work with as much as I do—well except Beast. But I’m not calling you my pet…_yet._”

A sharp look crossed Tiso’s face at the bug’s quip, a reaction of hostility all the more fuel to her teasing spark.

“Maybe it’s that,” started Tamer, her grin dimming to a gentle smile. “Or maybe…”

God Tamer pressed further to the her side, closer in turn to the sitting figure of the other ant. The faint red dim touched a crimson glint against Tamer’s face, a warm look exacerbated by the lantern above. Tiso hesitated, flinching slightly at her advance. Was this another play in her long-winded game, another toying tug at his mind? More dumbfounded was he than anything, the Fool able to muster nothing but meek attempt to shift back. His shaky motion was, however, halted by the gentle press of the Champion’s hand against his left shoulder. Her warm fingers tugged from his paldron to his neck, the delicate touch a stark contrast from the ordinary. Closer did her black head shift, mere centimeters before his own. A faint grin pulled at the lips of her tilted head, a whisper of her warm exhale brushing against his skin.

“…maybe…” she purred, her head leaning closer. 

Gripped was his body, near trembling under this confusing hold. Behind the blue hood did his eyes shake, concentration upon the Champion wavering at her approach. Her face brushed against his, tugging back the fabric he hid behind. Unnerved did Tiso close its eyes, fingers clenched at the cloth below. Her head shifted against the side of his, mouth opening to elicit a faint coo.

“…maybe it’s because I like you.”

At once, Tamer stood herself up, giving the stunned male a small smack on his nape.

“You’re off tomorrow alright? Don’t wanna see you in the arena,” she ordered, moving towards the entrance of his room. The God Tamer glanced back, Tiso still frozen upon his bed. A smirk formed, hidden as she returned her helmet to her head; his armor fixed and already had she cracked him again.


	6. Downtime

Tiso stared at the ground before him, the flickering, soft glow of the room’s hanging lantern casting an orange hue upon his black body. Form hunched forwards, hands fidgeting with each other, the ambitious fighter gave an utterance of restlessness. Only the first day had it been of his mandated break, and yet a constant drive for the lust of the fight hounded at the back of his mind. The ant glanced toward his armor set aside; several times already had he nitpicked and polished the exterior. No better escape from this humdrum would the Warrior’s Pit offer, its Fools resigned to the comfort of sickened malaise.

A hand reached down to pull at the bottom of his cloth garb; too had the chore of washing it been completed. His hood was cleaned, his shield was shined, confined to the illness of boredom was his mind. Frustration welled at time's slogging pace, the warrior deriding his plight as a bug burdened with nothing more than trivial tasks. Tiso stood from his bed, a glance towards the Colosseum's Pit; should excitement fail to rear its head, then for it would he hunt.

Behind slumbering masses, towards the hidden spring did the warrior walk. To the taboo staircase did he approach, a brief pause as his foot raised. Slowly did his foot descend upon the first step, another small step pulling him to the second. The light of the arena grew brighter the higher he climbed, Tiso finally at the corridor’s peak. To his left stood the tantalizing view of the arena. He crept towards it, glancing inside from its gate to see what grueling fights were being held, what fearsome foes were slicing at each other.

Nothing.

“Typical,” muttered Tiso, turning from the gate. How rare was it he caught a glimpse of the bloodshed, often only able to taste the residual air of anarchic slaughter. A shame the Colosseum had swept into the same doldrums, the ant unable to spectate even with his given break.

Tiso turned around, his back to the arena. Before him stood the a mere wall, its face of packed masks and dirt--nothing to be had there. It seemed, unfortunately enough, that the arena's skene offered nothing to sate the dullness of the day. Back did he begin towards the corridor's stairs, back to the depths of the Pit. Yet, he lingered in his place, eyes glancing to the left. There remained one place few would dare enter, let alone re-enter, the one place whose interest gripped his hungering mind.

Her chamber. 

Within the arched, carved entry way stood that familiar, foreboding darkness. Little light from the arena pierced through the Stygian air, her quarters a calling for death to trespassers. Convinced he was that he too narrowly escaped her wrath; had it not been for the spell of illness over her mind, how easily severed his head could have been. Yet a temptation tugged him closer, closer to the frame of her room. A faint, tantalizing smell tickled his antennae: not of the illness was it, that sickening sweet aroma a harbinger of danger, but of something nicer, of something inviting. Faint had he perceived it the previous day, though to the delirium of the day had he attributed it. Nevertheless, certain he was he could perceive it now, wafting from the confines inside. With what little noise he could muster, Tiso cautiously crept into the God Tamer’s room.

A familiar, subtle illumination from an orange flame offered the only beacon of light within the pitch room. Barely decorated was it, aside from a bed of blankets fashioned far more comfortably than his, and the few trinkets his eyes could catch. More prominent was the lethal, towering blade laying upon the wall--the arm who offered death twice to the warrior. Tiso muttered faintly, eyes shifting from the memory of pain. Beside it, to the Champion’s dark, reddish gray helmet did he move. His fingers gripped its visor, pulling the bascinet to his own face. An antenna flicked gently--noticeably had the scent grown. Pensively, somberly did Tiso look at it, holding its face before his own. How easy his head could slip inside, to assume her place, to usurp her throne. Yet the title still dangled so distant from his grip--how could he come to match the true Champion? Back did he return the helmet, the visor slipping from his palm to the bed.

Tiso took his leave from the chamber, approaching the light-bathed corridor behind the arena. His steps drew closer to the door, from one realm of death to the gleaming corridor of another. As he took his exit from the Champion’s room, an arm slammed against the side of the carved entryway, blocking the Fool’s exit. With surprise did Tiso leap back, a hand gripping the cloth garb upon his chest. The menacing figure of the God Tamer filled the entryway, her pale eyes scowling at the intruder. The warrior crept two paces back, staring at the unflinching look of his trainer.

“And what do we have here?” the brooding ant rhetorically remarked, approaching closer to the fighter.

With each stride she made forwards, Tiso retreated one back. His heart pounded within his chest, dread flooding a torrential sweat against his nape. Swiftly did his mind think, haphazardly attempting to piece an explanation. Yet, in true form, did he snap to an air of shamelessness. The ant stood his ground, hands clenched as the other approached, his eyes furrowed at the Champion.

“I’m doing what I’m allowed. Since you barred a warrior from his own home,” Tiso spouted, a hand pointing in the direction of the arena, “I decided yours would do better.”

Within an hair of the foolish insect did God Tamer stand, her head craned down to her subordinate. The Fool did not, however, flinch in the face of the Champion; he kept still, daring her to show more than a mere display of threats.

“And, need I remind _you,_” Tiso sneered, lifting up a black finger, “that _you_ entered into _my_ room unannounced.”

Against her armor’s chest plate did his finger press in emphasis. The God Tamer stared down at the offending finger, then up to his face. A malicious grin cracked against her pitch-black face: she would savor this.

“Now _that_ was a mistake Tiso,” she said with a small shake of her head.

With a firm grip did the Champion pull his hand off her armor. Her thumb dug against the chitin of the ant's tibia, forcing a reaction from the male. Tiso sneered, his free, left hand lunging to pull against the assaulting hold of the Champion. The warrior tugged to pry her squeezing hand from his forearm, his attempt merely playing into her strategy. The left hand of the God Tamer released Tiso’s caught arm, only to grip the opposite, tugging hand. With a yank did she bend the appendage, twisting the Fool's form in the process. Arm locked behind his back, a final, swift sweep of his legs brought the warrior face-planting into the ground. To ensure unconditional victory, the God Tamer sat firmly atop his back, pressing Tiso against the ground of her room.

The Fool struggled, jerking his arm in a vain attempt to liberate itself. With a subtle pressure of added force applied to his hand—and, in turn, a rather unwarrior-like squeal from the male —Tiso ceased his squirming beneath the Champion.

“You push so many limits, I’m surprised even _I’m_ keeping you alive,” God Tamer smirked, easing pressure against his arm. “I’m starting to think it’s more than just your ego,” she began, head craning down past his raised hood, hovering above his neck.

“I’m starting to think you like it,” Tamer whispered.

“To think a warrior like me would back down in the face of—” started Tiso, his ever-present bravado halted by the Champion’s movement. Up did she stand, her grip still against his arm. With a tug of his appendage, the God Tamer yanked his form about, rolling the warrior upon his back. Back to her seat against him did the God Tamer take, sitting comfortably on the thorax of her subdued Fool.

“Always cut off at the best parts,” she smugly taunted.

Tiso opened his mouth, ready to chastise and demean—yet spoke nothing. He stared back at the other with a slightly irritated look, his head shifting away from her gaze, down to his side. Little would arguing do to improve his situation. Tamer rolled her eyes, moving a hand down to his cheek. Her thumb rubbed gently against his skin; her provoking grin mellowed to a warm smile. Tiso’s eyes glanced towards the sensation, the similar feeling of uncertainty from her last escapade re-emerging.

“Tiso,” she spoke, her tone a soothing quiet. “I know I’m tough on ya, but I really do appreciate you. Sometimes I like seeing what’s under that tough shell.”

The God Tamer couldn’t help but give a small giggle to the sight below her. His persistently bitter appearance evaporated, leaving behind a calm, flustered creature. His mouth hung slightly agape as she spoke, unable to form a coherent word in turn. A faint reddening colored the cheeks of his dark face, coaxed by touch of his trainer. A new demeanor did it crack from the male, revealing the tender fruit beneath the egotistic carapace. Before her rested Tiso—not the prideful warrior, but the gentle ant.

Shifting her body down, God Tamer began to lay upon his front, her head holding above his. Her armor slid against his cloth shirt, the tug from the steel prying back swaths of the garb. A faint shiver tickled Tiso's spine, sections of bare, warm chitin feeling the cold touch of her metallic garment. The God Tamer gazed down at his surprisingly nervous expression, a small chuckle reverberating from her throat. The back of her hand brushed against his ruffled hood, peeling back the blue cloth to reveal more of his circular head. From beneath those folds did a meek antenna peaked; stronger did that familiar scent grow, more enticing its clutch upon the male. Closer did the trainer move, her chest touching lightly upon the male's thorax. Tamer's head wavered close to Tiso's, a half-lidded stare softening the intense nature of her scarred face. The warrior's shaky breathing brushed against the Champion's skin, met by the warm exhale of his counterpart.

With a tilt of her head, Tamer’s lips met Tiso’s, the two halves gently pulling against the male ant. His face burned with a scarlet hue, body trembling beneath the Champion’s form. His eyes locked stunned upon her gaze, yet with nary the request for cessation. Her lips responded with another pull, the soft tug playing with the other’s quivering halves. Her palm brushed the side of his face, his shakiness subsiding at her touch. With a lift of her head, Tamer released the kiss, a small salivary strand running taut, before breaking between the two. The Champion’s cheeks burned with a tingling fire, a smile back towards her tamed other. Her heart thumped faintly beneath her breastplate, a pace rivaled only by his own. From Tiso’s eyes could she read his emotions, his desires, his yearning for more. His hands gripped against her metallic armor, clutching her form. His head moved from the ground closer to her own, his cheek brushing against the soft palm still cupping his skin. Tiso nudged his face closer, pressing once more against his Tamer’s; from his faint breaths did he emit but one whisper.

“Again.”


	7. Champion

A clash of steel rang through the arena, promptly drowned by the raucous cheering and jeering of Fools hungry for battle. The audience shouted for blood, their snarls rivaling the combatants’ below. Metal sliced through armor, piercing foe after foe.

Tiso reached up, his shield zipping back into his hand with the grace of a veteran fighter. As the Heavy Fool approached him, the ant tucked his form close. Encroaching with a swift slither, his armored adversary sliced the air before him with their jagged nail. Tiso leapt into the sky, vaulting over the sluggish swipe. His arm lowered the razor-sharp shield, tearing a fine line through the tempered steel adorning his opponent’s back.

The ant landed, crouched to the ground, weapon raised out. Silence gripped the rowdy crowd, spectators leaning closer to see the result. A body thumped against the soil.

A thunderous applause broke from the stands, the Fools cheering their hero. The brooding form of their deceased Lord even seemed to crack a smile under that skeletal mask. Tiso stood up, not giving his enemy’s corpse the dignity of a glance back. They fell, just like every single one before them. His training had paid off, his feeble opponents decimated. Tiso raised his arms to the people, their former laughs now a resounding praise. He was their gladiator, their hero. Shoot, even he had to smirk at his achievement.

The warrior felt a solid punch against the back of his armor. What Fool had come to challenge him now—did they not know the battle was over? The arena grew eerily silent, their champion confused at the reaction. Tiso began to turn, though found it difficult to shift his body. The inside of his form began to feel slightly cold: had his armor received a nip to let in air?

A weight seemed to pull away from him, Tiso glancing down to examine his armor. There was, in fact, a crack, albeit a very clean one. No, the crack was more of a…hole. Odd, the blood of some fool seemed to have coated it.

Tiso collapsed to his knees, a sudden wave of tingling gripping his body. Something wasn’t right. He tried breathing, but each pull in felt dry. A slight dizziness gripped his vision as he attempted to focus on the pool forming below him. The hole began to sizzle, then to burn. A fire seared from his back, its plasmatic tendrils piercing through his abdomen with the might of the Radiance herself.

If Tiso could scream, he would.

His body collapsed forwards, the impact barely registering in his mind. He could see a creature approach from his periphery, the individual standing above him. An oddly familiar nail held down to their side, its length coated in blood. _His_ blood. Her figure blotted out the light above him, her masked head looking down in an emotionless stare.

“Pathetic.”

His mind couldn’t comprehend. He followed her lead. He fought shield by nail beside her. He did everything asked of him—and yet here he was. Slaughtered without grace. What compelled her? What was her reason?

…_why?_

The corners of his eyes grew dark, light fading from his body. He could feel the life dripping out of him, coating the earth below. Only one image remained, only one picture, before everything went black.

·

Tiso’s eyes broke open, staring at the cold, stone floor below him. A heavy gasp entered his lungs, his heart racing with a shaken fury. The insect’s eyes darted around, desperate for answers: was he alive? Was he dead? Where was he? And more importantly…why hadn’t the pinching sensation on his back ceased?

The warrior eyed further to the left; his heart immediately gripped in a panic. The boding form of a feral insect had made its nest beside him, sitting comfortably on the ground. A glance further up revealed a pointed leg poking against his back. It tugged against his garb, its tip pressing firmly upon his carapace.

Tiso jumped with a shout, darting from under the monster’s foot, towards the cracked wall before him. His sight shot around, looking for his shield as his aching back hugged the masks behind him. Slowly the creature approached, its fractured face inching ever closer to him. The green tendrils from its mouth gripped at the air before him, like angered worms searching for food. Tiso snapped at the creature to move back, a hand pressed out against its mask to cease it—only for that hand to disappear into the swath of tendrils from its mouth.

“T-TAMER!” he screamed in sheer distress, his face white pale as smooth, noodle-like appendages swam over his fingers.

From her entrance nearby did the armor-clad figure of the ant bolt out, skidding to a stop in the middle of the arena’s rear corridor. She looked at the duo, visor raised to reveal a stifled laugh.

“Aw, I think he likes you,” she teasingly remarked.

“H-HELP! Help already!” Tiso cried out, futilely attempting to retrieve his hand back from the Beast’s face.

The beast’s tamer moved beside it, rubbing a hand against its segmented body. Instantaneously did the Beast shift its attention away from Tiso, its focus affectionately on the Champion beside it.

With a deep exhale, Tiso’s head sank back, his hand retracted back to his body. His fingers shifted behind, rubbing the sore area upon his back. He glanced at the duo before him, the God Tamer seemingly whispering to the Beast. With that, the creature began to crawl away towards the arena, exiting the Fools’ vicinity.

“Don’t worry, he wont bite unless I tell him,” she giggled, stepping closer to her counterpart.

The ant below her offered no response. Tamer’s grew concerned, kneeling down to the ant below.

“Tiso? Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, eyes cast to the side, “Just…the vile creature or what have you.”

The Champion rolled her eyes, shifting an arm behind the fighter’s body to hoist him up. Tiso begrudgingly rose from his seated position, glancing at the bug beside him. Could he really trust her? One holding the position for which he yearned, one who pierced through scores of enemies with seamless ease—the one who killed him once, who threatened to repeat it again?

“Hey—” Tamer started, nudging him on the shoulder. “—let’s get in my room. I’ll get ya some dress or something that _isn’t_ shredded up.”

“Excuse you, but it’s a _warrior’s garb_,” remarked Tiso, head raised haughtily.

“Honestly I could just call Beast aga—”

Tiso covered her mouth with a hand, his eyes begging her to show restraint.

Upon sensation of a wet, muscly glide against his palm, his hand darted back, rubbing the saliva furiously upon his garb. He hissed at his trainer, the Champion responding with a sticking out of her tongue. A grin cracked over her face as she ruffled the back of Tiso’s hood, his head pressed down by the feel. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as the two moved into her room, a refocused image before his eyes. Perhaps life wasn’t his nightmare. Perhaps he could trust her.

Perhaps this was his own victory over the Colosseum.


End file.
